


While the world turns away

by GreenPhoenix



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/pseuds/GreenPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is alone after Hannibal has escaped, and Hannibal is waiting for him out there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While the world turns away

Will Graham lives alone now. His wife left him long ago, taking her son with her.  
He goes to some bar each night, and seeks to drown his sorrows in a bottle. People look at him and see the shadow of his former friend and tormentor.  
They would seek to befriend him and then spill their beans to Freddie Lounds.  
These days he doesn’t look to be friends with anyone.  
Alana used to come by, but he’s driven her away. She’s happy with Margot and doesn’t need to be reminded of her past.

*  
He gets letters and postcards from all over the world. There are quotes of poetry, and the longing is palpable, almost physically tangible.  
Sometimes there’s a return address. He doesn’t go with it to Jack, or write back.  
He puts them away in a box marked “H”.   
Hannibal escaped after they captured Dolarhyde, killing five guards in the process.  
Will knows he’s out there, and that one day he’ll give in and go see him.  
The last postcard was from Italy.  
Hannibal has brass cojones, and Will kind of admires the audacity.

*  
Will wonders why he doesn’t go; he’s given his dogs up. He has no ties to anyone anymore.  
He’s given up teaching, and simply works at a bar.  
There’s no one in his life but the ghost of a man who yet lives.  
Hannibal can haunt with the best of them.

*  
Will looks at he latest postcard.  
A church in Italy.  
The words are simple and clear.  
“It’s time don’t you think? I think of you here each day. I think of you with each breath drawn, and you haunt me. You know where to go. The address is in the last letter.”  
Will sighs.

*  
He meets a man who resembles Hannibal. He’s a Lecter groupie, and Will should stay away.  
So he doesn’t. The man seems suave enough, but it’s all an act.  
What better way to reach infamy than to fuck Lecter’s favorite plaything?  
Will loses his virginity with men to a guy he doesn’t even like.  
The whole time he closes his eyes, but he can smell the cheap aftershave, the sweat.  
The voice doesn’t have the right cadence or inflection.  
The hands are rough on his skin, and he wants to drift away.  
He comes despite himself, but chokes down his cry.  
The man will exaggerate this, and boast about it on some obscure part of the dark web,  
the spider’s web that catches all the flies. 

*  
Will licks his wounds, finds a few more men and debases himself some more.  
The rougher they are the better. He’s just a useless slut to them, and it works.  
One of them leaves him with a black eye, and he decides enough is enough.   
The surprised man has forgotten who Will is, he doesn’t even know all the killers that lives behind his eyes. The rage takes over and he kills the man and buries him in the woods.  
It’s time to leave. First he burns the box of letters, he already knows all the words by heart.   
*

He goes to the address in the last letter and finds another letter waiting for him.  
“If you read this I will wait for you.  
Come and find me at last.”  
There’s a new address in Rome.  
Will goes to see signor Blake.  
He has no knife in his pocket this time. “You came,” says Hannibal.  
“I though of you often,” says Will.  
“I never left those rooms where you were, they were illuminated by your presence,” says Hannibal gently.  
Will kisses him in the doorway and it feels like coming home.

*  
Their first time is like his first, only done right.  
This isn’t some stranger but a man who has lived in his head for years.  
The voice is right, and the words are pure poetry.  
He keeps eye contact the whole time, and is held in that gaze securely.  
The strong arms feel comforting, and the ecstasy is absolute.


End file.
